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Laurie Halse Anderson has been blogging about the lake effect snow falling on her home town in western New York. She’s posted a photo of her doing her Lucy sampling the snowflakes imitation, which is an annual occurrence.

Meanwhile, I sit here in relatively balmy coastal North Carolina where today’s high was 64, according to the thermometer on my dash. It’s been a decade since I’ve seen snow and eleven years since I lived through an Ohio winter that had so much white stuff, I got cabin fever. Every day, I pray that the weather stays warm so that the furnace won’t run. We have a propane unit, and gas is running of $3.50 a gallon here. Cold weather equals burning money.

And yet, I envy Laurie and her snow (also an annual occurrence). The notion of hibernating in a warm house, shut away from the world (except for internet service, of course) has so much appeal for me. It’s the idyllic setting that draws me, the wish for a simpler life without career, errands, bills, obligations, paperwork, meetings, meetings, meetings. I don’t like frigid temperatures, and I live near the beach, which is place that many others think fondly of this time of year as they trudge to their cars every morning to chip away ice and snow, start the engine to warm it up, and drive with mittens to keep from freezing their hands.

It’s natural to wish for that which you don’t have, but right now, if offered a snow for beach trade, I would take it. Wouldn’t you?